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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076003">With A Look, With A Thought</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alcohol, Consenting Adults, Daddy Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Multi, Overhearing Sex, Power Dynamics, Pseudo-Incest, Voyeurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:40:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It began, as these things often do, with a look.</p><p>Jaskier was better mannered than to leer openly at young women. Especially a young noblewoman of high rank, who may as well have been the natural daughter of his truest friend.</p><p>But when he took her hands in his, kissed her cheek softly in greeting, and said “Cirilla, it has truly been too long. You’ve bloomed into a woman while we've been apart these long years.” There was the faintest glimmer of appreciative warmth in his eyes.</p><p>"You're the same. Still as handsome as a storybook prince, with just a drop of the charm to go with it." Ciri returned and reflected the warmth. She was old enough now to notice the contrast between the boyish openness of Jaskier’s face with the promise of dark hair and strong muscles underneath his fine clothing.</p><p>Geralt saw it.</p><p>He saw it all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>With A Look, With A Thought</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/gifts">badwolfbadwolf</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ciri is aged up here - 19 or 20.</p><p>This is a porny one shot, there's no plot to be found here. I may add to it later, but for now I'm happy with where it stands.</p><p>Everyone in this is consenting adults, but obviously, what it says on the tin. This is baddirtywrong, just for badwolfbadwolf, who is an enabler and I love her for it.</p><p>Comments give me life!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It began, as these things often do, with a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was better mannered than to leer openly at young women. Especially a young noblewoman of high rank, who may as well have been the natural daughter of his truest friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he took her hands in his, kissed her cheek softly in greeting, and said “Cirilla, it has truly been too long. You’ve bloomed into a woman while we've been apart these long years.” There was the faintest glimmer of appreciative warmth in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're the same. Still as handsome as a storybook prince, with just a drop of the charm to go with it." Ciri returned and reflected the warmth. She was old enough now to notice the contrast between the boyish openness of Jaskier’s face with the promise of dark hair and strong muscles underneath his fine clothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt saw it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly, and he clasped Jaskier warmly by the shoulder. “Come, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Julek</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Let’s have a drink, and then you can serenade both of us with your grand adventures away from my side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finished the better part of two bottles of Est Est between them, Ciri’s cups still carefully diluted with water, although she made token protest that she was no longer a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly, Geralt-” Jaskier joined in the cause, his own lips stained red from the wine. “Ciri’s a young woman now. You could give her leave to make her own choice in so small a matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woman or child, you’ve never heard her whining the next morning that her head aches and her stomach’s gone sour.” Geralt said placidly, adding water to Ciri’s cup.”Sometimes,” he added with a meaningful look to Cirilla, “Things that are unpleasant in the moment are for the Princess’s own good. And she appreciates those lessons later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri blushed prettily and turned the cup in her slender, pale fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched her hands, not her face, and didn’t see the blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt saw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire in the tavern burned low, and the candles were puddles of wax. Geralt clasped Jaskier’s shoulder again with warmth, and then settled an arm protectively around Ciri’s shoulders. “It’s late. We should all be in bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier demurred, Ciri protested, but in the end the three of them made it up the narrow staircase and down the small hallway to their own rooms - side by side. Jaskier laughed at the coincidence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the coin in the world could line both our pockets, and we’d still end up sharing a wall.” He leaned, only a little drunkenly, against the wood paneled wall and chuckled softly. It took him two tries to fit his key into the lock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like having you close.” Geralt said, with a small smirk that Ciri saw. Jaskier didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I love being close to both of you, my dear friends.” Jaskier completed the statement by doffing an imaginary cap. Geralt filled in the long egret feather from memory, brushing the rough plank floors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drink some water, and go to sleep.” He grunted fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, father dearest.” Jaskier jibed with a roll of his eyes. He opened the door, shutting it loosely without remembering to bolt it. Dutifully, he filled a wooden cup with water from a pitcher and downed it quickly. Then Jaskier tumbled into his bed fully clothed, and was asleep before his head touched the pillow.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He woke, more sober than he had been, to Geralt’s voice. It was low and full of heat. Then, the loud thump of a headboard against the wall near his head. Damn, but these inn walls </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>thin. There may as well not have been a wall between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it that deep, huh?” Geralt’s low growl, followed by a woman’s affirmative cry of pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier had a moment of shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did Geralt truly tuck his Child Surprise into bed across the room, and then go and seek more pleasurable company? From the sounds of the woman’s moans and Geralt’s growls they were already well into their dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely Ciri would hear that needy, pleading whimper. It wasn’t even muffled - behind a palm or into a pillow. Her cries rose in pitch, growing frantic and then breaking off into a sharp, wanton moan of climax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, good of Geralt to take care of his partners, Jaskier supposed. He shifted on the bed slightly, unlacing his doublet with clumsy fingers and trying not to listen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, not purposefully listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s voice drew his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you come that hard because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sweetheart?” Geralt’s tone was indulgent, playful- at odds with the almost pained moan in response. “Or were you thinking of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, Daddy.” Jaskier had a shock of recognition at the sweet, breathy voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Then...no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a game, that was all. Played with a willing barmaid or whore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was certainly no stranger to those kinds of games.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In weaker moments, yes, he’d imagined that word on his own tongue in reference to the white haired Witcher. Wondered what it’d be like to be thrown over that broad lap. Had been curious if the man prefered sweet, docile obedience, or the fight a spoiled brat would give.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was simply a game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A...well played one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lie to me, Princess.” Geralt’s dark voice was right in Jaskier’s ear- gods, they had to both be pressed to the wall. Their voices were so clear…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier could picture it. Whoever Geralt’s partner was, on her hands and knees, braced as his much larger, muscular form thrust into her from behind. Perhaps he had an arm around her waist, keeping her back pressed close to his chest. So he could thrust his thick length as deep into her warm, willing body as it would go. She’d feel it in the back of her throat with each firm thrust that tapped the headboard against the shared wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, in for a copper, in for a crown. If he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>imagining...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers twitched. He bit his lip, considering a moment, then unlaced his breeches. He slid a hand inside them, grasping his aching cock with a hard squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came from your cock, and your fingers.” The woman panted, voice ragged. Jaskier could practically feel each purposeful thump of the bedframe, and he groaned softly behind clenched teeth. He revised his mental picture, adding in Geralt’s unrelenting fingers between her legs, teasing her close to another climax. He timed his strokes to each knock of the headboard, each protesting creak of the bed’s frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I asked, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cirilla</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s hand froze on his cock. He squeezed his fingers tightly around the base, gripping himself, because he could not- would not- spend to the thought of his best friend fucking his Child Surprise in filthy detail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cock throbbed in protest at the denial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was- It was just a quick thought, Daddy- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise-</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not enough for this hungry little cunt, then? You want a pretty bard, too?” Geralt’s tone was indulgent, considering. A loving father toying with the request for a kitten, after his child already opened her other name day presents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was human, after all. His hand moved again, quick, punishing strokes that made him gasp aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy, Daddy, you’re enough, it was just a thought, a look-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>““You want him, Princess? You want to hear him moan your name, you want him to make you come? I’ll get him for you. I’ll fuck him first so you’ll know just what he likes. Daddy’ll give you your pretty bard. But he can’t do this-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was so close. So, so close. He could feel his blood pounding in his temples, his back arching as he fucked his own fist. Lost in the image of being the one pressed against the wall, Geralt’s hand on his cock. Being fucked as an </span>
  <em>
    <span>evaluation</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his prowess, his worthiness to pleasure Ciri...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Daddy- you feel so perfect-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never want you to have anything that’s less than perfect, Princess- And I’ll make sure he’s fucking perfect, just for you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever her response was, it was lost. Jaskier’s focus was on frantically working his slick cock, grip tight and rough. Ciri’s cry mingled with Jaskier’s own raw, unmuffled shout as he came messily over his fist and stomach, seed staining the rucked up fabric of his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lay there in dazed bliss, knowing that he’d left his moral compass behind yet again while chasing his own pleasure. When it caught back up to him there’d be a pang of guilt, concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now he simply floated, eyes closed, body thrumming like a plucked string with echoes of pleasure. Whatever he thought he’d overheard, he’d polish it into something gleaming he could take out and revisit in privacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt would never have to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, little bard?” He heard, lazily drawled from his doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s eyes flew open and he jerked as though he’d been stabbed, hand falling away from his softening, messy cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad, scarred chest. There was knowing heat in his gaze, and a lazy smirk on his lips. “Think you’re up to proving you’re worthy of a closer look at her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Daddy.” Jaskier said hoarsely, sitting up as Geralt closed and bolted the door shut behind him.</span>
</p>
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